


Overlap

by Edie_Sunshine



Series: Just Two Guys [12]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Season/Series 03, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edie_Sunshine/pseuds/Edie_Sunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Come tonight, Juice will be in Stockton with most of their brothers, and Chibs will have Jimmy O's blood on his hands....</p><p>Beta'd by the wonderful Spacebabe</p><p>Title comes from an Ani Difranco track, lyrics in the notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overlap

It's early. Too early to be awake. Juice rolls over and finds that unlike the usual state of affairs, he's not alone. Chibs is lying beside him, impassive as a statue, where normally at this time he'd be sitting downstairs with a smoke. Chibs never usually sleeps more than four hours a night. 

Juice isn't gonna lie here and watch his boyfriend sleeping. 

He's not a complete sap.

Chibs isn't really his boyfriend for a start, he's his... 

Well, he's his whatever he is. 

Juice reaches over, slides one hand over the sleeping man's chest, plays over the tattoos that are normally hidden under vests and scarves- the ones the Scot has had since his youth and no longer wears with quite as much pride. 

Chibs breathing stutters but he doesn't wake, not quite. 

Juice tucks himself in a little closer, presses his nose to the skin of the man's bicep and inhales. Bike oil, stale smoke and the weird soap Chibs always uses, the one that smells of carbolic and should be fucking horrible but has actually become Juice's favourite smell ever. 

Chibs shifts, one hand drifting up to catch Juice's. His fingers are still sleepy.

'You awake?' 

Chibs just hums, his eyes creeping open, languid and content. His thumb rubs over the crinkly-edged scar that zigzags across Juice's knuckle. 

'Go back to sleep,' Juice says. 'It's still early.'

'Nah, I'm awake now.' Chibs murmurs, keeps his eyes closed though, thumb still worrying over Juice's hand. 'Big day today.'

Juice shrugs, no point worrying about stuff they can't fix. 

He presses a kiss to the older man's arm, gets jostled aside when Chibs shifts his arm up to wrap it around him, tug him closer, and then Juice's head is resting on Chibbie's chest and really, it's much easier to just slide one leg over his and then, with a little more of a wriggle, Juice's half hard is pressing against Chibs' thigh and Chibs' own is coming to life. 

&&&

Juicy's body feels like a furnace, his skin still sticky with sleep. Chibs slides his hands over the younger man's back, pushes the duvet aside for now, even though he knows the lad'll start bitching about feeling cold in about twenty seconds time. 

Come tonight, Juice will be in Stockton with most of their brothers. 

And Chibs will have Jimmy O's blood on his hands. 

Maybe. 

These last months have been crazy. Him and Juice sneaking around behind the others' backs, screwing like bunnies. It's gonna be a fucking wrench, not having Juice at his side for the next year. 

Maybe though, maybe it's for the best. Two of them, what's been going on, they can't keep it invisible for much longer. Two of their brothers already know so the secret can't stay secret forever.

With time apart, maybe this thing'll just fizzle out and they'll go back to being brothers in arms again.

Chibs isn't gonna kid himself that he wants that to happen. 

'Jesus, would you fucking stop?' Juice props his chin on Chibs' chest. 'Stop thinking so loud!' 

Chibs can't help laughing, Juice's cross face is pretty funny really. It's a bit like being glared at by a puppy. 

Chibs reaches down to get his hands under the other man's arse, hauls him upwards so their lips can meet. 

Their skin's all stuck together and Juice grumbles at the effort of moving. He sighs when their mouths collide though, settles into the kiss like it's something that needs attending to. 

&&&

Outside, a car is making its way slowly down the street, some poor fucker trying to beat the rush hour traffic. Juice can't think of anything worse than having to put on a shirt and tie everyday, sit in stationary traffic and spend all day shuffling paper. Things are gonna be shitty for the next fourteen months but it's still better than the alternative. 

He shifts so he can pull the other man down on top of him, be trapped by Chibs' bulk, just the way he likes it. And of course, knowing what Juice is up to, Chibs goes along with it, slides his hands up Juice's thighs and fits himself between them.

Juice runs greedy palms down the lines of Chibs' body, swallows his groan and answers it with one of his own when Chibs' mouth starts its journey down his throat. The man's stubble is a thrill on Juice's sensitised skin and his cock is leaking already. 

'Wait, wait, can we-' Juice pauses the other man with a hand on his wrist and Chibs cocks his head on one side. He breaks into a slow grin, reaches into the drawer in the bedside cabinet and Juice's mouth goes dry.

He remembers the first time he asked Chibs to tie him up. Remembers that they'd been fooling around, Chibs pinning his hands to the floor, when Juice had pointed out that he had some handcuffs kicking around in the bedroom. 

The Scot had grinned, pretty much like he is right now. 

Juice remembers that the moment the cuffs were on, time had stopped. They'd gone from having to just fucking nail each other, to taking their time, Chibs exploring every inch of Juice's body and Juice powerless to stop him from doing whatever he wanted. 

Now, Chibs fastens the cuffs so that Juice's hands are clipped to the headboard, runs his tongue down the length of Juice's inner arm, down his armpit and the side of his chest, just because he's a bastard, and because Juice is ticklish, and because he just can. 

Chibs scratches his teeth over the raised nub of Juice's nipple, and for about the billionth time, Juice thinks he really should get around to getting it pierced. It'll have to wait till he's out of jail now. 

He watches down the line of his body as Chibs laves and bites at his nipple, has to bite his own lip to stop himself from whimpering. Chibs hands work their way down to Juice's hips, his thighs, fingertips rough on the sensitive skin.

'Come on-' 

Juice hadn't realised he'd said anything but Chibs looks up at him with a filthy grin.

'Not in a position to be makin' demands, Juicy,' he says and settles back down to torturing Juice, fingers ghosting over the head of his cock, cupping his balls.

Chibs' tongue is ticklish on Juice's belly and Juice wants to fight him off, get away from the sensation, but Chibs' hands are firm on his hips, his eyes watchful on Juice's face.

Juice could fidget, try to get Chibs to where he wants him most, but he knows better, knows not to rush him. This is the last time they're gonna have together for a long time and it makes sense to draw it out, savour every moment, tuck every detail away in his memory for a time when he needs it most.

&&&

Chibs could do this for hours. He loves the reactions he can coax out of the other man, gasps and murmurs, little whimpering mewls. Loves the way Juice struggles to keep still, not to fight against his bonds. Loves the way he always fails.

He can't take his eyes off of him, wants to memorise each flicker and tick that crosses Juice's features, the way he bites his lip to try to stifle the sounds he needs to make. 

He slides his lips over the head of Juice's cock, just a little, just to tease, and Juice whines when he pulls away so he does it again, gets it nice and wet before sliding away, down to his balls and Juice's legs shift, spreading wide, hips coming up off the mattress in wordless request. 

Chibs would love to oblige him, but he'll have to make time for that later. Instead he gives Juice a sharp slap on the thigh and chuckles at the way Juice's cock jumps, fills out a little more. 

He took Juice over his knee once, seems like ages ago now. 

The lad had been in a snit about something, Chibs had no idea what, and he'd been whining like a bitch all day. 

Chibs had retreated to the couch, drink and telly, got on with ignoring him until he snapped out of it. 

Eventually, Juice had come into the room, quiet and awkward. Rested his head on Chibs' shoulder and murmured a 'you okay?' in his ear. 

He'd pulled away to look the lad in the eye, and Juice had at least the good grace to look embarrassed. Hadn't said sorry though, just given a little shrug, asked if Chibs wanted another beer. 

'That it?' he'd asked and Juice had flicked him a grin that should have been cheeky but just looked nervous, before turning to leave.

'Get back here,' Chibs had said to the lad's retreating back and Juice had frozen, turned back. 

'What's up, man?'

'Here.' Chibs had motioned him closer and Juice had frowned, put one cautious foot in front of the other until he was only a metre away. 

'Chibbie, what are you-' Juice had turned his head on one side, expression going from fake-cocky to confused. 

'Jeans down. Now.' 

'Huh?' Juice's jaw dropped, his eyes going huge. 

Chibs had kept his expression hard, knew Juice would be unable to read him like this and true enough, Juice had faltered, another nervous grin twitching his mouth.

'Fine, whatever Chibbie. Jesus.' Juice had snorted, but his hand had been shaking when he unbuttoned his jeans, pushed them down. 'There,' he'd said, holding up his hands, 'Satisfied?'

'Here.' Chibs had said, again, pointed to a spot on the carpet, right by his feet and Juice had hesitated then rolled his eyes, waddled over like it was nothing and he was just humouring him. 

Chibs had got Juice by the arm, wrestled him into his lap, bent over, with his arse in the air and face pressed into the couch. Juice had struggled and then stopped, pretending again, that he was fine with it, it didn't matter. The tension was coming off the younger man in waves. 

Juice had gone quiet, meek even, which had been a bit of a surprise, the side of his face resting against the cushion of the sofa so that he could just see what Chibs was going to do- obedient but not trusting. 

Chibs had pushed Juice's shorts down to reveal his arse, perfect skin, turning to goose-flesh in the cool of the room. Ghosted his fingers across the tan skin and listened for the hitch in Juice's breath.

'You've been acting like a prick all day,' he'd said softly and Juice had just swallowed, his breath quickening to a pant. 'An' yer not even man enough to say you're sorry.' 

Juice had flinched at that, opened his mouth as if to protest. Chibs held up one hand and Juice fell silent again. 

'If yer gonna act like a little boy, maybe I should treat you like one, eh?'

&&&

Chibs had spanked Juice once. It remains one of Juice's favourite memories. 

He remembers that the Scot's voice had been sharp, calling him back into the room, then closer so he was standing before him, feeling like an idiot. Chibs' face had been cold, he'd not looked like Chibbie at all and a knot of something had expanded in Juice's gut, tightening and strangling his breath. 

Bent over Chibs' lap, he'd felt completely naked. Embarrassingly so, as if the older man could see everything Juice had ever tried to keep hidden. Which was dumb really, because there probably wasn't an inch of Juice that Chibs hadn't stuck his face into.

And it had been humiliating, lying there sprawled over another man's lap, bare-assed, cock leaking. 

Humiliating and something else, something he couldn't quite name. Maybe like being on a rollercoaster at the start of it's run, climbing up and up, and not quite knowing what was coming. Excited by, and dreading what might be on the other side.

The first blow hadn't been a shock, exactly, but the sharp sting had caught Juice's breath, stuttering it in his lungs and almost sending him flying off Chibs' lap. He'd held on tight, immediately fidgeted himself back into position and he'd wondered at himself, doing that when he could have got away. 

He hadn't moved because his body wouldn't let him. It wanted to stay, wanted more. 

He'd got it.

Twenty blows. Juice knows because he counted. Each one hitting a different spot. Each raining heat that swirled outwards across his skin and sparked deep in his gut, jumped his body, made his cock twitch. Each stinging slap spiking something deep in Juice's gut, leaving him sobbing and writhing and wanting it to stop, to never stop, for Chibs to keep doing it over and over, and to never do it again. 

He'd wanted to get a hand around his cock, wanted to just get off like this but that's crazy, right? He'd settled for sneakily rubbing his cock against the fabric of Chibs' jeans, hoping the man wouldn't notice. Chibs had, of course, and he'd chuckled, called Juice a dirty little fucker as he slapped Juice's hand away, and Juice had felt like one, felt a shiver of humiliation and then shrugged it off. Chibs' voice had been soft and fond, belying his cruel words. Chibs was getting off on this as much as he was. No reason to be embarrassed at all.

Juice had never thought he'd actually get off from something like this. Want it, maybe, like it, yeah but not actually come from it. But he'd felt a familiar tightness pulling him in and shattering every thought in his head and he'd found himself lying in a sticky puddle, and still the blows hadn't stopped. 

Afterwards, Chibs had shifted them around so they were lying on the couch, Chibs jeans rough on the sore skin of Juice's bare backside. 

He remembers that in the aftermath, he'd felt like there was no dividing line between where he ended and Chibs began, like he could say anything, not say anything, and Chibs would immediately understand. He'd told Chibs all about the shitty phone call he'd had off his eldest sister and that he was never going to stop being the fuck up kid brother. 

Chibs had cuddled him close until he stopped blathering, and then, when he was all talked out, Juice had let himself be coaxed to the floor, Chibs spitting into his hand for lube and they'd fucked, slower than Juice had expected, every movement chafing his sore skin. He'd been an exhausted mess when Chibs had come, curled around him, forcing him down into the carpet.

Now, Juice tugs on the restraints, looks up and sees that his wrists are already red and chafed- it'll be obvious to anyone what he's been doing. So long as they don't know who with, who cares?

He thinks that there's something about not having any say in what happens to him that does something to him. 

It's not what he wants all the time, sometimes it's fun to play fight or to turn the tables on the other man but today he just wants to feel that trust, doesn't want to have to think. 

He wants out of these cuffs, though, wants to be able to touch. 

But that's part of it, isn't it? Wanting and not being able. 

Being at Chibs' mercy. 

Chibs sits up, rummages in the drawer for the lube and Juice watches him slicking up his cock, nearly explodes at the sight. 

Chibs' cock is dark and thick, uncut and perfect. Juice really needs to get his lips around it one last time before they lock him up again and he flickers his tongue over his lips at the thought of it.

'Jesus Juicy, your fucking mouth...' 

Chibs eyes are like lasers. Juice doesn't try to hide his delight, does it again and then suddenly Chibs' mouth is hot on his own and he can't think when the other man's tongue is in his mouth. 

Chibs pulls away, sits up to pull Juice's legs into position and Juice knows this is going to be slow and deep and fucking intense. 

He groans at the feeling of being filled, helpless, loves the little frown that settles between Chibs' brows as he adjusts to the feeling of Juice wrapped tight around him. Juice knows from his own experience that the man is probably reciting soccer fixtures or his times tables or something as he fights the urge to come too soon. 

Chibs sets a slow rhythm that's calculated to keep Juice on the very edge, just teasing the little bundle of nerves inside him but never enough to send him into spasms. The sweat is pouring off them both.

Juice wants to get his hand around his own cock, can feel it straining and begging. 

&&&

Chibs remembers that Juice had been drowsy and content in his arms after his spanking. That the rough fabric of Chibs' jeans must have been fucking irritating on his heated skin but he hadn't complained, had just gasped and sobbed as Chibs ploughed into him.

He remembers that his own hand prints had stood out in sharp relief against the tawny skin of Juice's arse.

He remembers that the lad had begged to be fucked, fucking begged. 

And he'd been clingy and needy and fucking hot. 

Just like he is right now. 

Chibs can't take his eyes off Juicy when he's like this, spread out like a delicious feast, desperate to come. 

He shifts so that they can kiss again, and Juice's cock is trapped between their tight pressed bodies, and the lad wails as he comes all over himself. And then Juice is languid and sated, a smug smile ghosting his lips for Chibs to wipe off. 

'You know what I'm gonna do to you?' Chibs says and Juice grins, pupils blown.

'Gonna come in you and then roll you over, eat it all out of yer.' 

Juice groans, loses all sense of smugness in favour of desperate begging and Chibs feels the familiar warmth spiking up his spine as he listens to Juice's breathy pants. 

&&&

True to his word, Chibs flips him over onto his belly and it fucking murders his wrists, still trapped in the cuffs. It's worth it though, Chibs lips are filthy on his hole, slurping and sucking and unbelievably good. 

Juice loves that he can orgasm from being fucked, even after his cock has given up the ghost. He loves the way it spreads through his whole body, head to toes, the way it feels like the other man's actually a part of him, like it'll never end. 

Chibs holds him through the aftershocks, whispers endearments in his ear and then, when Juice is almost sleepy, he finds the key, unlocks the cuffs and strokes the cramps out of Juice's arms and shoulders. 

Juice expends his last fraction of energy to pull the other man's arms tight around himself, lets Chibs nuzzle the side of his neck. 

On the bedside cabinet, Juice's phone springs into life- the alarm telling him it's time to get up. Juice groans, reaches over to kill it.

'Timed that well,' Chibs murmurs into the back of his neck and shifts to switch his own phone off before it joins in. 'Let me take a piss an' I'll get you some breakfast.'

Juice rolls onto his back so he can watch the other man getting to his feet, disappear into the bathroom. 

He looks around the room: clothes draped on the easy chair, chest of drawers, minus one drawer, table lamp that needs a new bulb, little collection of photos from Chibbie's home: Kerrianne at various ages; his sister and niece at the seaside. 

He wonders if he's ever gonna be back here again, back in this little haven they've built for themselves. Are they gonna just be able to pick up where today leaves off in fourteen months time? Or will time and distance and the life claim them the way it does everything else. 

He has to blink back tears when the bathroom door opens and Chibs emerges. 

&&&

Chibs fucking hates seeing the kid upset. Hates that he can't do anything to make it better. All he can do is get on like nothing's amiss. 

Lad needs to put some distance between the two of them, between himself and the rest of the world if he's going to survive his time in jail. 

When you're doing time, feelings are weak, touch is a commodity and trust is over-rated. But, those three things are like Juice's gifts to the world. Without them, he'll become a shell, distant and lost.

He thinks about the first time they'd met. Juice had been skittish and odd, nervous around the Sons, like he was some fan-boy meeting his heroes for the first time. Chibs had looked at him: soft brown eyes, perfect tawny skin, and he'd just wanted. 

And now the lad's the centre of his universe. Chibs doesn't want to imagine coming back here tonight and finding his bed empty once more. 

He kisses him instead, and Juice is pliant and willing in his arms and Chibs would love to just get them both the hell out of Charming, away from the ATF and the Sons and the life. Hide him away some place where no one knows where he is, keep him all to himself. 

It's not possible though. They've responsibilities, to themselves and their brothers. 

Breakfast in bed, Chibs-style, consists of a cereal box, a mug of badly-made coffee or well-made tea, and a plateful of cold, soggy toast. 

Juice demands that Chibs goes back downstairs for spoon, bowl and milk. He returns to find the shit has scarfed the cereal out of the packet while he was waiting. Juice takes the mug of coffee Chibs presents him with reluctantly, but declares it almost drinkable. Needs more sugar though.

'Better get off your lazy arse an' go get some, then.'

'Nah. I'll just eat more cereal...' The lad looks about five, fishing through the box for the free gift. 

Chibs climbs back in the bed, sits back against Juice's chest and Juice rests his chin on his shoulder.

'You okay with it?' Juice asks, his voice soft as anything. Lad doesn't need to say anything, Chibs knows what he's on about. 

It's basic common sense, to never talk specifics about stuff the club does. It's unlikely that the ATF have bugged any of their houses, but why take the risk? 

Chibs shrugs, says it needs doing and Juice goes all thoughtful. 

'You gonna write to me?' 

'What, we livin' in a chick flick now?' Chibs half turns to get one arm locked around Juice's neck, pull him in closer for an awkward kiss. 

Juice laughs against his lips, shrugs and slides his hands down the planes of Chibs' chest. 

He presses his lips to Chibs shoulder and goes quiet again and Chibs thinks, okay, that was maybe a bit harsh. The lad's tone had been joking but Chibs had heard something small and hopeful in it. 

'Hey, idiot.' He tightens his hold, pulls Juice 'round so he can meet his eye. 'Yeah. I'll write yer.' 

Juice's face breaks into a grin. 

'Though, you better sort your fuckin' spelling when you write back...' 

He lets go of the lad and Juice shifts so they're sitting chest to back again, Juice's chin resting once more on his shoulder.

There's no point in thinking about the fact they won't be able to say anything in a letter. Don't want prison guards knowing what's going on between them, passing it to the cops and prison authorities to use as leverage. 

&&&

Juice curls himself around Chibs, cuddles him close. He thinks he might actually miss these early mornings even more than the sex: all the stuff the other man doesn't say but just leaves hanging there in the air for Juice to see. 

He pulls away to grab his phone, check the time. 

Damn. 

'Babe? We gotta go.' 

He presses a kiss to the other man's temple, wriggles himself free and gets out of bed. 

'Aye.' Chibs shifts as if coming back to life. 'Hey.' He grabs Juice's hand, turns it and presses a kiss to the palm. 'It'll be alright.' 

Juice doesn't know which of them the older man is trying to convince. He climbs back onto the bed, cups Chibs' face in his hands and kisses him long and slow. 

Chibs eyes are half closed, like he's trying to memorise this but can't bring himself to stop looking. 

&&&

Later that day, Juice is in the armoury, trying to disentangle a bunch of shit that really should have been put away properly last time, when Chibs takes the AK out of his hands, pulls Juice around to face him. 

The rest of the guys are right outside, talking in low, tense murmurs as they prepare for what's gonna have to be an Oscar winning performance to kid ATF into letting them kill Jimmy O. 

'Hey.' Chibs' voice is all rusty. He looks like the enormity of what's about to happen is finally hitting him. 'You keep your head down, yeah?'

'Come on Chibbie, I've done time before-' 

'Yeah...' 

Chibs fiddles with the zip on Juice's hoodie. He's probably recalling that Juice's last spell inside was mostly spent in the prison infirmary with a knife wound in the back. 

Juice glances towards the door. Someone's kicked it shut and the other men's voices are muffled behind it. 

He slides his hand up into the nape of Chibs' neck, pulls him forward so that their foreheads rest against each other. He's not gonna try saying anything, all the important stuff's been said already. 

Chibs' lips are gentle, sad on Juice's own and he tastes of cigarettes and, even though the sun's no where near the yard arm, whiskey. 

Yeah, Juice thinks. Today's gonna be fucking huge. Juice is lucky, all he's got to do is not crash his bike and pretend to be mad at Jax. 

Chibs, though, Chibs is gonna have blood on his hands. And Chibs isn't Happy, he doesn't enjoy hurting people. He isn't Tig, he doesn't lock it away and just not look at it. He thinks, deep and hard, and he won't have anyone here to watch over him during the inevitable black nights.

The older man pulls away and Juice wishes he wouldn't, wishes he'd just stay, the world can just stop turning for a bit so they can drink their fill of each other. 

Fat chance.

Outside, the voices are getting rowdier as their brothers get ready to leave.

'Ready?' Chibs asks and his voice sounds choked. Juice doesn't trust his own, just nods and they separate.

&&&

Juice's house is silent. More silent than it ever should be. It's three days since Chibs was last here. He hadn't want to be here on his own and so stayed at the clubhouse with the rest of his brothers, all of them feeling some unspoken need to stick together and stay close. 

But he couldn't stay there forever, now could he?

The cat gives a grumpy little chirrup as he walks in, as if to say, oh, here you are then. He tells her to fuck off. 

She won't. 

She'll wait till he's comfy in bed, or on the sofa, wind herself around him and make a nuisance of herself. 

He gets himself a beer. There's no way he's facing this empty house without one. 

It's been three days since the rest of the boys were arrested and shipped off to Stockton. 

Three days since Jimmy O finally got what was coming to him. 

Chibs should have felt relieved, vindicated at what he'd done. After all, it had been to keep his girls safe. He doesn't feel that yet, wonders if he ever will. Instead, there's this sticky feeling, like he can't get rid of the blood. 

The night after it happened, he'd trawled his way through a bottle of Irish and barely felt the burn. And with no Hap, no Tig and no Bobby to counsel him, he'd been lost, wished for a pair of warm arms to scoop him up, take him away from all of it. 

But, of course, Juice had been gone too. 

He'd settled for silence with Opie, each of them lost in their own little hell. 

He'd settled for a pretty brunette chick that he remembered from the Caracara days. 

Now, he thinks back to that final day with Juice, the two of them in the armoury, Juice chasing his lips, cute little frown creasing his brow. 

He has traced his fingers over the scars left on the younger man's back during his last sojourn at Stockton Pen, silver- pink and uneven. And every time he's thanked god each one wasn't just a little more to the left, or to the right, or a little deeper. Even with his limited medical training, Chibs knows how close he came to losing the lad.

He looks around the deserted bedroom. 

He needs to get the place all closed up before the lease is up. 

He'll put most of it in storage, but there's some stuff he'll not be able to part with, sentimental idiot that he is: the stupid cactus on the windowsill, Juice's cat. The little collection of keepsakes in a sweet tin under the bed. He reaches under the bed now, his hand scrabbling for and finally finding it, pulling it free.

The box had belonged to Juice's mother. It's got all kinds of shite in it: baby teeth and locks of hair, school reports and scribbled handmade birthday cards. Photos of Juice and his sisters. 

There's a picture that's normally hidden away in the back of Juice's wallet- lad must have put it in the tin for safe keeping- the two of them clowning around outside TM, back when they were just on the verge of turning into what they are now. Juice doesn't know Chibs knows about it. 

Chibs shuffles all the stuff back into the box and fastens it shut with the ancient rubber band that's been holding it closed for decades. He'll make sure the tin makes it back to Juicy if it's the last thing he does. 

Fourteen months. 

It doesn't seem like much, but it is, it's an ocean. 

And that's assuming nothing happens, that Juicy doesn't have to do anything that extends his sentence. 

No one ever thinks about the fact that Otto was only sent down for three years. It's the stuff he did while he was inside, for the club, that got him life. 

Chibs doesn't want to think about Juice getting stuck inside for longer than the barest minimum. Doesn't want to think about his tan skin turning grey from lack of sun, his body springing up scars and prison ink, back stooping under the weight of all of his sins.

He thinks about Otto, cowed and diminished. Chibs remembers what he used to be like.  
He doesn't want to see Juice go the same way.

His cell phone sparks into life: Chloe, the little chick from the other night. 

He doesn't even remember giving her his number. 

She's at the clubhouse tonight if he's around... 

He thinks, am I around? 

Yeah, maybe. 

Brooding won't help Juicy and if he learned that the younger man was agonising over him like this, he'd smack him upside the head. He needs to take his own advice.

Distraction is everything.

He tucks the tin under his arm, gets the cactus off the side and goes in search of the cat. Conning it into getting into the little basket he borrowed off Happy's mam is gonna be about as much fun as getting the fucking thing back to his place on the back of his bike.

He clicks off the light in Juice's bedroom, pulls the door shut behind him.

He'll deal with the rest of this shite tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Overlap by Ani Difranco
> 
> i search your profile  
> for a translation  
> i study the conversation  
> like a map  
> 'cause i know there is strength  
> in the differences between us  
> and i know there is comfort  
> where we overlap
> 
> come here  
> stand in front of the light  
> stand still  
> so i can see your silhouette  
> i hope  
> you have got all night  
> 'cause i'm not done looking,  
> no, i'm not done looking yet
> 
> each one of us  
> wants a piece of the action  
> you can hear it in what we say  
> you can see it in what we do  
> we negotiate with chaos  
> for some sense of satisfaction  
> if you won't give it to me  
> at least give me a better view
> 
> come here  
> stand in front of the light  
> stand still  
> so i can see your silhouette  
> i hope  
> you have got all night  
> 'cause i'm not done looking  
> no,  
> i'm not done looking yet
> 
> i build each one of my songs  
> out of glass  
> so you can see me inside of them  
> i suppose  
> or you could just leave the image of me  
> in the background, i guess  
> and watch your own reflection superimposed
> 
> i build each one of my days out of hope  
> and i give that hope your name  
> and i don't know you that well  
> but it don't take much to tell  
> either you don't have the balls  
> or you don't feel the same
> 
> come here  
> stand in front of the light  
> stand still  
> so i can see your silhouette  
> i hope  
> you have got all night  
> 'cause i'm not done looking  
> no, i'm not done looking yet
> 
> i search your profile for a translation  
> i study the conversation like a map  
> 'cause i know there is strength  
> in the differences between us  
> and i know there is comfort  
> where we overlap


End file.
